Chapter 1, Icon Claw
by Fictitious Malicious
Summary: A local hero tells his story of how he vanquished a ruthless alien killer, and must later face a terrible challenge from others of its kind. What seems like the end is merely the beginning. Beware: blood, gore, violence, angst. Mild language.


_Hanzorr is a planet caught between the gravitational pull of it's sun and an enormous black hole. The rotation of this tiny planet is so slow, entire generations pass before its inhabitants can witness the sun moving so much as an inch across the sky. As a result, the planet is divided into two great continents, seperated by a vast ocean. The side facing the sun is a great desert, while it's opposite is a land of snow and ice. Each land has its own set of life forms suited exclusively to their own climate. The side we're going to read about is the cold side, whose creatures only know the sun as a sliver of gold that barely peeks over a distant horizon. This is the story of an Etchetta, which looks like a feral mixture of man and white rat, known to his people as Iron Claw. _

I knew I was something of a local hero, but being invited to the City of Iron Towers to have blood mead with the Great Council of Elders is not an honor I ever thought I'd receive in my lifetime. The Council guides lead me through the massive, intricately designed iron gates into the bustling city. I've only heard tale and lore of this place from the little rural snow hole I come from.

Snow is all I've ever seen, actually, tons of it, every single day. It never even occurred to me that there might be something solid underneath it all, let alone the expansive iron mines this place is known for. All the iron in all of Hanzorr is harvested from this place, and so it's by far the richest, most prosperous colony in the world. The snowfall is lighter here because of how close the city lies to the Great Shore, so they don't have to build a new igloo every few days because a new day's blanket completely engulfed their old one. All around the city are a series of shacks erected with what look to be spare iron parts that people live in and do business from. Here, everything is made of iron and strange hard, cold things that don't look like metal. Races of all types live work and trade here.

The guides leading me down the main path make sure I'm aware of all the city's laws, one of the main ones being never obstruct the path of an iron shipment. If I so much as delay a wheelbarrow's worth for a few moments, I'll be executed in the city square in front of all its citizens. Not very encouraging. The townsfolk's faces light up in recognition when they see me.

"It's Iron-Claw," they mutter to each other in delight. "The one who took down the mighty pelt stealer!" Two heavily armed Lup'a guards glare wide-eyed as I pass. A Gru'ek in mid flight nearly slams into the side of a shack because he's too busy staring at me to look where he's going. I hear a small gathering of Urkha and Syn'san females giggling to themselves about how alluring my scent is, for an Etchetta. The miners who've emerged for a break wave their picks high in the air and cheer. It gets the entire crowd going into a boisterous, rowdy applause for my benefit. I can't help but smile and wave back to some of them. Some of the workers who are still on duty peek out from the giant mouth of the mines to see what the commotion is. Productivity slows down to a crawl due to my arrival and I fear they may punish me for it.

One of the supervisors, who is probably the biggest, angriest looking Dz'kall I've ever seen in my life bellows out to his miners to get back to work. "Please, Sir, walk faster." One of my guides pleads with me.

He leads me through a series of iron archways leading to the largest of the impressive iron towers. This must be where the Council awaits me. They bring me to a room that's completely sealed off from outside which is uncomfortably warm. In the corner is a basin filled with water made out of that same strange, cold stuff that's not iron. "Wash the trails from your fur, Iron-Claw, Sir. When you're properly groomed, you may enter the Council chambers."

"I will, thank you. I just beg you one question." One of my clawed hands slides curiously up the side of the strange material. "What is this? Is it a new iron you're mining?" They quirk their heads at me; as thought it were a silly question.

"It's stone, Sir." They glance at each other as though they now think of me as the simpleton I used to be known as. "It's what the iron is mined from. It's what all this snow and ice lies on top of. You didn't know?"

"I…" My long nose wrinkles. I'm overcome with an urge to kill him for the comment, but I force myself to take a respectful tone. Every since I defeated the creature, I've been alarmingly quick to anger and I must control myself. "I come from the north. We are a simple people. We build igloos, we hunt Squirms, and we live day to day. Most of us aren't even aware there's anything under the snow at all. You could probably dig for half your life and find nothing but snow." My whiskers twitch and my tail slaps the ground in annoyance. "I've never heard of mines, or even of the Shore until my travels brought me close enough to it to hear the stories. Don't be so quick to judge and mock."

The Urkha bows deeply in respect. "My sincerest apologies, Sir. I assumed everyone knew, I was wrong."

"Yes, Iron-Claw. A thousand pardons for our foolish behavior." The Burghal bows as well. I can't help but crack a smirk; this is something I will never tire of.

"It's alright…just, mind your tongues in the future."

"Yes, Sir. Please groom well. We will see you after your meeting for the feast." The feast? There's a feast too? Outstanding.

"Welcome, Iron-Claw." The aged Khr'ur greets me, licking his massive tusks when I sheepishly enter the Chamber room. All eleven Elders are sitting at a table made of solid iron. I'm pleased to see a fellow Etchetta inhabiting one of the seats. I always knew of the Council, and the fact that their laws stretch to every major colony in all of Hanzorr, keeping things orderly and just. Never in my life did I ever see myself standing before them. I feel my legs quiver and I fear they might wiggle right out from under me.

"Good day to you Sirs…. and Madam Elders." I bow to the elderly she-Burghal in particular, the only female ever to be granted the rank of Elder. "I am deeply honored and humbled to be your guest."

"We are honored to have you, hero. Please sit." She bows her head slightly with a smile. The servants pull out one of the huge iron chairs and I sit. They pour blood mead into the biggest iron goblet I could've imagined.

"Please, Iron-Claw," The Lup'a speaks now with a voice too big for the room we're in. "Won't you tell us an account of how you took down the beastly monster?"

"Oh yes, do." The others chime in. "That would be lovely."

"Um, well," I clear my throat. "As you know, the pelt-thief had been picking off people in the northern villages for quite some time. Not just anyone, I discovered. It was only the Squirm Hunters like myself. Their bodies were left skinned and mutilated, their skulls and spines missing. You could hear their screams over the howling of the worst of storms."

"How awful!" The Gru'ek covers his beak with one of his giant white and silver wings, mortified.

"The worst was having to see it." I cover my eyes as well, as though it were happening in front of me once again. "The beast was a coward. I learned this when a few of us followed close behind my cousin Torn-Ear while he was hunting. I know it was terrible of me to use him as bait, but we needed a better idea on what we were dealing with." I take a deep breath and sigh. The Council remains quiet and listens. "My cousin was attacked suddenly by an unseen foe. The beast left deep, heavy footprints in the snow, but we could not see it with our eyes. It struck my cousin down with a mighty slash of its claws and suddenly, the snow was painted red with blood. We attacked it then with our spears, our bare claws and fangs. It knocked most of us down and even killed a few, but it ran away leaking this strange green fluid that stained the snow. My cousin and village-mates were dead but at least their bodies were whole when we laid them to rest."

"I am sorry for your loss." One of them sighs. "Was the green stuff the monster's blood?"

"Thank you. And yes, it was. I wasn't sure at the time, so I sniffed and licked it. It was strange and the taste of it gave me the most bizarre, bloody dreams. I woke up angrier than I've ever been in my life, so in the middle of the night, I wore my thick cloak, packed all the weapons I could find and headed out to kill it."

"How did you find it if it could not be seen?"

"It was much like hunting Squirms. They burrow through the snow, and when we hunt them, we listen for vibrations and slight shifting in the mounds. Hunting the monster wasn't much different. Even though I couldn't see it, I could smell it, and in the distance, hear it and feel it trudging through the snow. It stopped when I came near. I assumed because it was pitch dark, it wouldn't see me so we'd be on even footing, but I was wrong. It seemed to see perfectly and began heading right towards me. It let out a shriek that sounded like the most evil sound I'd ever heard. Then I heard this other sound, like a blade being unsheathed and I instinctively ducked to the side and rolled. Again and again, the creature stabbed and slashed at me, but I've been a Squirm hunter for many snowfalls, and I know how to feel the snow well. The darkness actually helped me because it allowed me to concentrate more on the vibrations its huge body was making." I pause to take another long, blissful gulp of this amazing, bittersweet mead.

"And? What happened?"

"Oh, it slashed me up pretty badly." I admit, chittering my teeth together, grinning. "It may not have been visible, but I had been slashing back at it and so you could just barely make out a form from the bloodstains on it. From what I could tell then, it stood upright like us, though much, much taller. My iron and bone daggers were barely getting through its thick hide. My only allies were my stamina and superior speed. I just kept tumbling and rolling out of the way of its attacks. Battling it for a while, I got a lucky strike in that damaged it enough to materialize. It appeared to be just as surprised as I was."

"Oh my!" The Gru'ek exclaims. "What did it look like?"

"Huge, strange and ugly. It wore a metal facemask, too flat to have a muzzle, with long black ropes coming off the top of its head. It had no fur of its own, but wore the white and gray pelts of our people over thick, leathery yellow and brown spotted flesh."

"No fur?" They all mutter at once now.

"No feathers either." I added.

"What matter of creature was it?"

"Maybe from whatever's beyond the Great Shore? Who knows? It didn't have a tail either; it only had two arms and legs. It wasn't slashing me with its own claws, it was using this." I raise my hand and display the thick metallic wrist gauntlet I stole from the creature with the two long blades jutting from it. "This is what I managed to claim from it during the fight. This is why people call me Iron-Claw. Though this metal isn't iron; it's something far tougher and lighter to wield. Once I was able to see it, I was able to pick apart its armor little by little. It became frightened when I turned its own weapon against it and really made it bleed. It was too clumsy and slow then, and I was able to end the conflict quickly. I stabbed it in the side of its neck, right under the mask. It hit the floor and I descended upon it to finish it off. It went for something attached to its other wrist, perhaps another weapon, but I thrust my dagger in through an existing wound that went straight through its arm, holding it there, my tail wrapped around it, holding it further. I was possessed by determination. I just kept stabbing it again and again in the neck with its own blade until it quieted its shrieks and stopped moving." I release a sigh and take another long drink.

There's a long moment of silence at the Elders glare at me in disbelief. Finally, the Lup'a speaks up. "What became of the beast's corpse?"

"We harvested it." I respond, matter-of-factly. "We stripped all its belongings and strange dressings, took back our pelts and fashioned its skin and bones into sturdy tools. We tried to eat the meat but it was tough and rancid. Its facemask remains at the village as a trophy." I omit the fact that I salvaged every drop of that glowing green blood I could get. Oddly enough, I'd developed a taste for it. It's sweet, and it makes me feel strong.

"And the spines of its victims? What became of them?" The Etchetta asks.

"Well, here's the thing… we never found them. The beast must've buried or hidden them in a cache somewhere. Large amounts of snow have fallen since then, I'm afraid. Only the Squirms can access them now."

"Those poor souls have been avenged. The more important thing is that the beast is dead and our people are saved." The Dz'kall adds with a proud grin.

"Yes, but why had it come?" The Lup'a strokes his chin tuft, eyeing the Dz'kall. "Perhaps there are others that will seek vengeance, or to reclaim their fallen comrade's belongings? Might our people be in further danger?"

"I don't know, kind Sir." I answer for him. "But I can assure you, if there are others, I shall defeat them as well."

For my bravery, I'm given all kinds of tokens to take back to my village with me: iron weapons, tools, blankets and even new thick appendage dressings. Us Etchetta have a disadvantage because our hands, feet and tail have very thin fur and no pads so we must dress them constantly to keep them from freezing off. On the long trek home, I have time to mull over what the Lup'a Elder had said about there being more of those monsters, and the foolhardy oath I'd made to vanquish all I found. One of these days, I shall strive to think before I speak.

Thankfully, the snowfalls are light during my travels so when I emerge from my igloo most mornings, I don't have to dig too much to get to the surface. This also allows me to travel back up to my quaint northern village in under fourteen snowfalls. I'm nearly at the end of my journey when I see it. There's a chasm in the ground; a sudden drop as wide as it is steep, that no one could survive if the snow had blinded them, and they'd fallen in. It takes me a very long time just to walk around it. As is, the ground is unstable and snow continues to crumble off the edges and fall in. I wonder what could've made such a chasm? I wasn't gone terribly long, and a hole this big could never be dug that quickly. And for what purpose would they? I decide that when I get back home, I shall ask the others about it.

I keep walking for the duration of another short snowfall and my quaint little northern village is nowhere in sight. No half-buried igloos, no spades sticking up out of the ground, no Squirm pelts, no mounds of white and gray fur, nothing. Could they have moved the village? Impossible. We've been building igloos on top of our ancestors' bones for generations, they wouldn't simply up and move the village. Panic rises in my chest and for a moment, I think that I've merely become lost. Maybe the change in wind, or my detour around the chasm has me confused. In desperation to find answers, I take out my iron spade shovel and frantically begin digging. I dig and dig until my tongue is dry from panting, my hand wrappings come loose and my fingers lose all feeling. The spade hits the top of an igloo and it's then that I'm sure I came back to the right place. The people of my village are under there, and this late in the snowfall, they would've dug themselves out by now, but they haven't. In fact, judging by the amount of snow that sits atop their igloos, they haven't bothered to unbury themselves in several days. Right next to the igloo, I uncover the body of one of them; completely skinned with his skull and spine missing.

"Augh!" I sob, hunching beside the perfectly preserved corpse to collapse into a ball of grief and rage. Those things came back and killed my whole village… because I took one of theirs. "NOOO!" I scream to nobody in particular, and my voice seems to be devoured by the vast, empty white wilderness. "I'm the one you wanted, you monsters!" I rant through grief-induced madness. "I killed your friend!" I raise the arm with their alien gauntlet attached. "I killed it, not them! They were innocent! It's me you want, **take me**!"

And then an unseen force grabs a hold of that arm, and I'm stilled from fear. I look up and sure enough, another one of those monsters materializes, standing over me. He's bigger than the one I fought; both in height and girth. His helmet appears weathered and scratched up from battle. Several more of them appear behind that one, letting me know how overpowered I am. Something inside me snaps, and I cease to care. They took everything from me, and now there is only vengeance in my heart.

My tail wraps around the handle of the spade behind me, pulls it out of the ground and with a strength borne of fury, I whack him right in the side of the face. He doesn't fall, but he stumbles and lets go of my arm.

_*Shink*_ Those twin blades pop out and while he's off balance, I slash right across his collarbone. The first blade glances off the metallic shoulder pad, but the second cuts deep into his neck, splattering me with that strange, glowing green blood. It lets out this shuddersome roar and backhands me in the face like an insubordinate child. I go flying through the air until I skid to a stop several feet away.

"Sons of whores!" I leap to my feet, screaming at them; all of them. "Come and get me, you filthy murderers! You may overwhelm me, but I'll kill at least one more of you before I draw my last breath!" I pause, panting hard with emotion, watching them stand there staring at me making strange chirping noises to each other. "Well? C'mon then!" I wave them over, spade still in my tail's grasp. "Are you cowards? You'd kill my village's children but won't take on a real warrior? **I** killed your friend, **it was me**! Damn you all, **FIGHT ME**!"

They all look at the one I'd wounded. It steps forward, reaching for its mask. To my surprise, it unhooks something from the side with a strange hissing sound. It removes the mask to reveal its real face; brown and yellow spotted with four mandibles on its mouth instead of a muzzle. I'd seen it once before on the one I killed, but this one looks far older, it's round, furless skull bigger with more bony protrusions. It occurs to me that the one I killed was a novice. This one isn't. Those mandibles open wide and it roars at me, answering my challenge. I show no fear. I let out a loud, shrill war-screech, gnashing my teeth together as I leap wantonly at it.

Two things happen at once: The first, it grabs my belt with one hand and the collar of my cloak with the other, hefting me up into the air with it's superior strength. The second thing, on the way down, just before my back slams against the snow, I twist my body halfway around and drive those twin blades right into his left side. When my body smacks against the ground, it forces the blades to saw downwards and out. I'm bathed in its blood by the time I'm lying flat. It screams in pain.

_*Shink*_ Its gauntlet releases twin blades nearly twice the size of mine, and he makes it more than evident he's going for a descending strike. I roll out of the way and it hits nothing but snow. It may be big and strong, but it's slow and awkward, especially in the snow. Its not used to the cold, so its joints are stiffened by our climate. I kick off the ground and do a fluid tumble between its legs, ending up behind it. The spade jabs hard into the base of its spine as I drive those twin blades right into the back of its knee. I imagine it would fall to its good knee with a tortured cry, but it does something I'm not prepared for- it falls backwards on top of me.

As I've been using my speed against it, now it's using its weight advantage against me. I hear a loud, wet snap in my midsection as its thick, hard, metal-clad form sandwiches me against the cold ground. It's suddenly very, very hard to breathe and my vision goes blurry. I see it reaching above its head where it knows my face is, and I cannot dodge the close-fisted blow that knocks me so far into unconsciousness that I don't even feel the pain of impact.

And then, there is nothing but darkness and even darker dreams of vengeance.


End file.
